Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
I’m alone and chained, waiting for the darkness to return.
Waiting for him to return.
Calder
Morning comes far too soon. I should’ve gotten out of bed hours ago since all I’ve been doing is staring at the ceiling, every attempt at shutting off my brain drowned out by the thoughts that continue to roll around in my head.
Keeping Saint alive, instead of killing her. It had to be the stupidest choice I ever made. You wouldn’t think so by the way she stays stuck in my brain like a burr.
How soft her skin was, the way her pulse felt beneath my fingers, how right it felt to touch her after a year of forcing myself to stay away.
I want to claim her. Make her mine. I am so fucked.
Sitting up in bed, I scrub a hand down my face, and try not to think about how big of a fucking mess this is. How wrong it is that I went against my father’s command. In all the years I’ve been his right hand, I’ve never hesitated, never failed to finish a job.
Even as guilt gnaws at my insides, begging for me to confess what I’ve done, I know I would choose to save her. Again and again. I don’t regret sparing Saint.
My only regret is how she came back to me. I wish like hell we didn’t have to meet again like this, that she wasn’t tangled up in my family’s problems. It doesn’t really matter now, since I can’t change what I’ve done.
I can only look forward, only find a solution to fix the present. The cabin’s just temporary. I can’t keep her there forever, but I also can’t risk my father, or anyone else, finding out she’s alive. Not until I make a plan.
It isn’t normal for a son to say they hate their father, but Roman and my relationship has never been normal. I’ve hated him for years—for the way he abused my mother, for the way he treated my brothers and me. Pitting us all against each other.
Loyalty to the family is all that matters to him. The Bishop’s name, and reputation, comes before everything else. That’s the rule. Always has been.
Until Saint.
But there’s no rewriting the rules, not when Roman holds the reins.
When he discovers the truth, because I can’t keep Saint hidden forever, shit is going to implode. My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I clench my fist before snatching it up.
Oh, it’s only Wayne.
Wayne: Your father wants to see you. Office. 9 AM.
I’m not surprised. Wayne is known to tattle to my father any time something goes sideways. And last night went more than sideways. I can’t blame Wayne, he’s loyal to a fault.
And loyalty, around here, comes before survival. Loyalty is survival.
My stomach clenches as I get out of bed. I know what’s coming and I’ll deal with whatever punishment Roman saddles me with.
I drag myself into the shower, washing quickly. By the time I’m done and dressed in my usual—worn jeans, flannel, and steel-toed boots—I’ve pushed the anxiety about this meeting so far down I can almost forget it. Almost.
I pause in front of the mirror to check my appearance: square jaw dusted with scruff, eyes too sharp, nose bent from one of many fights with Kade. Bishop blood through and through.
I’ve faced a number of monsters in my life, but none as cruel and callous as my father. Facing off against him doesn’t scare me, it’s what happens afterward that makes my blood run cold. He always has a way of retaliating when we stand up to him that is more often than not ten times worse than the act of speaking out. The punishment also usually hurts the people I care about more than me. My brothers, my mother, and once he finds out she exists, Saint.
I can handle pain, can handle his rage, but I can’t handle watching the people I care about get put through the wringer because of something I did. I have to protect them, and Saint, at all costs. Even more so since she didn’t sign up for this shit like my family members.
But did we sign up for it? My brothers and I being born into this shit show.
Outside, the ranch is quiet and I welcome the calm as I walk down to the barn. I start my day like any other, as if I don’t have someone handcuffed to a bed in the woods. I saddle my horse, a black gelding named Storm that no one else on the ranch can handle, and ride out for my early morning chores.
I check the fences. The eastern pastures stretch out before me as I ride, the sun just beginning to climb higher in the sky. This land has been Bishop territory for four generations, each acre paid for in blood and sacrifice.